The Tennebaum File: A True, Strange Story
As the years passed on, I nearly forgot about a nasty harassment that occurred in December of 1995 involving Bear’s Stern’s Senior Executive Partner, Michael E. Tennenbaum. It took me a while to convince myself to write this, as my recovery demands, regardless of the massive financial powers surrounding this story such as the above mentioned, CopyCentral, now known as CopyPage and its owners, Jeff and Donna.Besides, Bear Sterns is gone and I am still here. Sheer greed destroyed them, giving me one less giant to worry about.
 Befalling Giants in Century City
3rd Year of Sobriety – Los Angeles, 1996
by
CJ Davidson,
copyright 2008, www.thatotherwebshow.com
I was employed at CopyCentral (aka ConvictCentral for those in the know) at or around October of 1995 by a jovial, yet cynical fellow named John Froehlich. John and I became friends immediately as we shared the same course sense of humor and a zest for hard work. I was rather offended by his subtle racism when he replied to my friend Brewster’s request to a day of honoring Martin Luther King Day…
“Why don’t we just make Groundhog Day a holiday?” He asked.
His production manager, Moises, was even friendlier and dove into the mindless work of unstapling and restaping tons of copied and re-copied stacks of endless litigation for endless attorneys. I was so honored.
Actually, I was. duplicating harsh celebrity testimony and nasty corporate lawsuits were juicy perks to perpetual, monotonous reprographics. Among these was a lawsuit containing photographs of pieces of an old woman after being squished by an MTA bus, complete with someone hosing down her bits of flesh from the asphalt from under the bus. “How could MTA fight this??” I asked myself as I copied these ghastly photos, again and again that night. “Because they can.” I concluded.
Another lawsuit of interest we all shared was a high-profile nasty celebrity divorce testimony. Accounts of cruelty and abuse, ranging from throwing her down the stairs, against a wall and acts I don’t wish to reconsider were perfect fodder for conversation.
As the fist month of my employment at CopyCentral continued, I found myself creating cool calendars for a merchant called Bryan. These beautiful calendars contained holiday images with family pictures for every month. I was proud to create them, night after night in the basement alone in Century City.
There was only one problem: Bryan seemed to have promised more calendars than the machine or we could produce and apparently was behind in fulfilling his orders. But instead of dealing with his customers, I received phone call, after phone call and some late night visits perpetually asking me how soon these damn calendars will be done? I told him they would be finished when the machine finishes them. This answer was, of course unacceptable and the harassment continued.
I complained to my boss, John only to be told…
“That’s just the way he is.” John laughed and did nothing. “The customer’s always right.”
Soon, the calls became unbearable and I told Bryan…
“Bryan, please relax.” I said. “Go eat a Turkey sandwich and take it easy.”
He was outraged and promptly reported my comments to John where I was SEVERLY reprimanded me.
“You DO NOT tell customers to relax. You DO NOT tell customers to take it easy and you DO NOT tell them to have a turkey sandwich!”
This was my first experience with what I call “spontaneous combustion.” How could I POSSIBLY get into trouble by standing here alone night after night doing my job? I was to learn, this was only the beginning.
As Christmas ’95 inched closer, the parties, drinking celebrations swirled around me in the "Emrald City" as I continued to create other people’s memories within those surreal calendars. As I did, a drunken voice called out to my left…
“Do you have a restroom here?”
I looked up, startled to see a rather intoxicated fellow holding gifts and his sport jacket. I was told specifically that no one was allowed to come in from the garage and that the rear area was off limits. Understandable, since I was alone.
“No. Sorry.” I replied. And with that the drunken fellow waalked off. But to where?
I finished what I was doing and went to secure the outside door when I noticed it was ajar with a milk crate. My friends the security guards explicitly told me to keep this door closed for security and so I removed the milk crate and let it close.
“Don’t close that!” The drunken guy called out…
I looked over to see the guy pissing on the wall of the Sun America building in front of God and everyone. He quickly zipped himself up with urine leaking down his front and came at me, frothing like a pit bull…
Open this door right now, God Damnit!” He yelled., cursing and banging on the door.
“This door is to remained CLOSED.” I said, reading the sticker from right in front of me. “That’s why there’s no handle to open it outside. Go home you drunken bum.”
“I’m gonna get you! So help me God I’m gonna get you!!” He screamed through the door.
“If you have a problem, go see the guards in the front.” I said turning and flipping him the bird.
I went back to my duties and lo and behold here comes the drunken guy with one of the guards from the front. We both explained what had happened and the security guard was angry the door was opened.
“That door is to remain SHUT!” he said writing up the report.
We all three signed it and our drunken friend was too intoxicated to notice he had just signed a report indicating he had broken TWO building security codes, smelling of scotch, pissed on the wall of the Sun America building and threatened me. My security guard friends laughed at this for weeks until…
I arrived for my night shift to be pulled aside by John…
“A guy named Michael E. Tennenbaum from Bear Sterns complained about you closing the door on him.”
“Yeah he was that drunken guy I told you about.” I recalled. “Remember the guy pissing on the wall outside?”
“Well, he’s livid.” John explained to me. “You wont believe what he said to me, ’Here’s what I want.. I want a public apology from you and from us in front of the building and a written apology.”
“I don’t know what to say.” I shrugged. “He’s was drunk. I just stand here night after night doing my job.”
John now had me in his sights as a troublemaker and I had Michael E. Tennenbaum to thank.
The second occurrences of Michael E. Tennenbaum’s harassment occurred a few weeks later when he approached John Froehlich with a lie about me slamming his hand in the door.
“What did you do to this guy???” John yelled at me. “Do you know how powerful this guy is???
“I swear, John I did nothing.” I explained again. “He’s lying.”
I brought my friend the security guard to verbally tell John what had happened that night. John seemed more convinced but uneasy.
Finally, another month passed before Michael E. Tennenbaum went to the owners, Jeff & Donna threatening a lawsuit stating I assaulted him in a doorway that he was forbidden to be in the first place. Of course, there was no questioning Tennenbaum’s claim’s. Again, I found myself sitting before John, my job at stake.
“Jeff and Donna don’t have time for all this.” John said in a fervor. “They own a vineyard up in Northern California. They don’t have time for this.”
I suppose I COULD have saved a copy of the report from that night, but I was sure that it would NEVER go this far. I always thought my friend John Froehlich and my employers Jeff and Donna would help me, listen to me or investigate what REALLY happened. I couldn’t have been more wrong. Tennenbaum is rich, therefore we believe HIM. His firm Bear Sterns also has a large account with us. You are poor. We don’t believe you. These are the facts. No more are needed.
I felt very cold and alone that night, but determined to PHYSICALLY prove my innocence. And so I did. At lunchtime, I approached my friend, the building security guards for a look at that Tennenbaum report. He was from Pakistan and giggled uncontrollably when he heard the name Tennenbaum. He went into the security room and returned quickly with the golden sheet of paper.
“Strange,” he said, handing me the sheet of paper. “It was sitting right there in front of me when I opened the door.”
“Thank you! Thank you” I said and ran off to make 100 copies. I handed him back the original and few copies to the guards. We all laughed the rest of that night.
I hurried back to my work and placed a copy of the Tennenbaum Report on John’s desk with a note, “Merry Christmas”. It was sometime in February, but it was Christmas to me. I PROVED my innocence. It was over…for now.
The phone rang the next morning, waking me to John’s voice…
“Chris! I got the report. Your not apologizing for NOTHING. Come on in and let’s straighten this out.”
I was on top of the world! I had my job and Tennenbaum has been proven a fool. I had just brought down a nasty giant…or at least stopped him in his tracks…with SOBER reality. I had kept my presence of mind and defeated a truly formidable foe. But if my victory was Tennenbaum’s humiliation, it would not be long until our fates walked parallel one last time.
When asked if I could pursue a harassment sut aganst Tennenbaum, Donna told me to "hold off" on my suit...indefintely. I said "Ok" I knew it would cost them a client, so I abided by her request. I would regret my decision.
As summer approached, my friend Brew. approached me, explaining.
“That motherfucker, Tennenbaum.” He said. “Makes a million dollars a week and can’t even buy his secretary a birthday card!”
John told me around August ’96 Tennenbaum had been kicked out of Bear Stearns…for harassment. Not surprising, since he hovered over every girl in the office when I made deliveries to bear Stearns
“Hmm.” I replied. “I’m still here and he’s gone. Guess you believed the wrong guy, huh John?” I said vindictively, grinding his nose into my vindication. I never got an apology and it was eating me up.
As months went by I found myself cocky, resentful and on crack cocaine. On or around mid-November, the bitter resentment of John’s doubting my word, had me undermining his authority, starting fights to the point he had no choice but to send my bitchy ass home. I was quit and I didn’t care. I had the Tennenbaum lawsuit to fall back onto. But the drugs clouded everything and soon the time to sue has passed.
I would suffer with lethal meth addiction for the next ten years.
I hadn’t decided to write this story until hearing about the implosion of Bear Stearns.
I would not show my face at CopyCentral until October 2008, twelve years later…and they were gone…moved. I had hoped to apologize for my behavior. My recovery required that. I decided to call them later. And so I did. I talked to Moises.
I hope this hurts no one. My motivation is my recovery and the truth, so help me God. ~
CJ Davidson |
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